


Just Take Her Home (and don't try to sleep with her)

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Nancy actually responds instead of bullshit bullshit bullshit, Sweetheart Steve, takes place in canon ish 2x02, there was always the underlying jancy chemistry, these two did not get a real shot as a couple, vulnerable bby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Ficlet takes place in 2x02. Enough of a summary in tags. LOL





	Just Take Her Home (and don't try to sleep with her)

**_If she tells you you're an idiot, you are a lucky man._ **

* * *

Steve knew he shouldn’t have just ran out like that in a total huff, like an immature little child. He knew that the second he heard the door of Tina’s house slam behind him, when he started the engine to his car, when he backed out of the driveway, and somewhere along that one, solitary, ominous stretch of road in Hawkins, his anger was beginning to fade.

All he could think about as muffled sounds resembling some person singing played from the radio, was his girlfriend blubbering drunk at him, throwing around the word _bullshit_ with such aggression and certainty like it wasn’t her. He’d like to believe that she didn’t mean it – she didn’t mean to say that their relationship was _bullshit_ , that _he_ was _bullshit_ and that maybe, probably, she didn’t even love him in the first place. 

He wasn’t naïve; just because he was there, didn’t totally mean that she was, _yet._ It didn’t mean that she would never get there at all. _‘You were drunk, Nance. You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t._

That became his mantra. It served to get him home in one piece and let him get some sleep. For a minute, it crossed his mind that maybe he should go pick her up. And maybe he would. Or, maybe he wouldn’t. Give her some time to think it out.

But the rational, realist part of his brain he just knew he was subtly picking up from her told him to turn back. What if she walked home looking for him, swaying from side to side in those stupid heels she could now barely stand in but swore went with her costume, and that thing, that thing that killed Barb, saw another, cute, innocent little girl – the picture of fucking purity, and decided right then and there on its next meal. He would never, ever, forgive himself.

No matter how upset he was with her right now, he loved her too, he couldn’t help it, the pauper falling for the princess, and so, he whipped back around, driving way over the speed limit and suddenly, in a cold sweat. Fear, the alcohol, or both, but he was not going to chance it.

He ran back into Tina’s house, receiving a couple looks from those still congregated in the living room, cat whiskers and noses smeared, sweaty, sticky faces that once had masks over them, but he moved past it all and up the stairs, two at a time, not stopping until he found the bathroom again.

And there, thankfully, was Nancy, the entire front half of her body practically spilling over the toilet bowl in this pale, clammy mess of nausea and she looked up in mild alarm when he came in, her eyes a little bleary and her cheeks shining with drunkenness.

The surprise didn’t last too long, because her head was back in the bowl, echoing the retching sounds, expelling themselves from her body. Dry heaving. She must have been vomiting for awhile already _. Shit._ _Why had nobody else been with her? Carol? Jonathon even_? _Jesus fuck._

He couldn’t afford to be mad at her. He’d worry about whether or not she loved him later. Right now, bent over the toilet at the weirdest, but clearly most convenient right now, angle, he could tell that she was scared. As drunk as she was, as drunk as she had been, it didn’t matter. She’d never drank much before, he could tell that about her from a mile off, so she’d never been like this before, either.

He scolded himself for not trying harder to wrestle that cup out of her hand, for not taking her home sooner. For not watching her closely enough because clearly she was going through some shit right now and alcohol was the closest numbing agent. He was so fucking stupid. _You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington._

He got down on his hands and knees and held her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her hair back from her face. “Oh, Nance,” he cooed, kissing the back of her neck as her breathing finally started to sound less haggard. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry,_ I’m an idiot. You’re okay now.”

Nancy just kind of groaned in response and he kissed her neck again, surprised when she reached her hand behind her head and felt for his. He took her hand and squeezed. He felt her shoulders move when she smiled, and when she turned around to face him, that smile radiated on her face.

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” The grin got wider. “And I love you.”

He didn’t think he heard her right. “What?”

“I love you,” she said again, making sure to annunciate, jokingly, of course, if the giggling was any indication. _Was she still drunk?_ “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her, even though he knew that she would taste like sickness and stale booze. It was worth it. He gripped her head in his hand, tilting it slightly to get at a better angle. _She_ was worth it.

…

He didn’t want to say it back. Not until she was sober. Steve didn’t love easily, probably because of his parents or some shit. So, he watched her sleep that night. Watched her chest rise and fall, felt it under his hand, her breathing against his chest.

And then when she woke up, a little groggy, but with a faint, worn smile on her face, her hair falling down her collarbone, brushing against the lacy material of that _damn bra,_ she said it again.

“Thanks for coming back. For taking me home. I meant what I said last night.”

A deep breath. “I love you.”

He just kissed her. Soft and gentle. Although he knew that wouldn’t say it all for him. He had to do the heavy lifting with his words, now. And he didn’t mind that. Not anymore. Not when it came to Nancy Wheeler.

“I love you, too."


End file.
